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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154855">Off and On - Drop &amp; Inhibitions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/run_sure_footed/pseuds/run_sure_footed'>run_sure_footed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Before Kipo [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, BDSM, Choking, Drinking, M/M, Masochism, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Sleep Deprivation, Subspace, breath play, drunk horny idiots, mentioned forced self harm, non-mammalian genitalia, professional punishment, somewhat reluctant sadism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:09:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,827</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154855</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/run_sure_footed/pseuds/run_sure_footed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's the next instalment of Off and On, our series of break-ups/make-ups between Harris and Jamack.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harris/Jamack (Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Before Kipo [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Off and On - Drop &amp; Inhibitions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Drop</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Harder!” Harris snapped, eyes blazing, burning his need into Jamack’s eyes. <em>“Harder!”</em></p><p>Jamack was reluctant to squeeze Harris’ throat any harder, to grip Harris’ wrist any tighter, but every time he tried to give Harris a moment to breathe, he demanded more.</p><p>Slowly, he pressed down even more, forcing Harris’ head back, bruising his neck and wrist. He was riding Harris, but he was so spent he was barely doing more than grinding Harris’ erection deeper, his muscles burning, chest heaving. Harris had been particularly enthusiastic tonight and Jamack felt as though he was struggling to keep up, but there was no question that he <em>would, </em>even if it hurt. He had to. He had to enjoy this energy from Harris while it lasted.</p><p>Harris’ mouth parted, then closed silently. He couldn’t draw enough breath to ask for more, so he would have to take what he got. And it felt <em>so good</em>, the iron bands of Jamack’s fingers anchoring his wrist and throat, pinning him down and cutting off his air and seating him firmly in his body, in this moment. He wished Jamack had just <em>one</em> more hand so he could hold his other wrist. He managed a thin whimper at the thought, eyes wide as he looked up at Jamack helplessly, pleading for something he could never have said out loud even if he wanted to, because even <em>he </em>wasn’t sure what he was asking for at this point. He just wanted <em>more</em>. <em>All</em> of it. He wanted to be claimed by Jamack, used by him, taken for his pleasure—well, <em>both</em> their pleasure; Harris wasn’t one to do something without getting an equivalent something else in exchange, not even with Jamack. He <em>wanted</em>, and he could feel Jamack wanting right back.</p><p>Usually Jamack only held Harris’ throat until his eyes unfocused, but the last few times that hadn’t been enough. Pushing through his uncomfortable trepidation, Jamack held fast. There was no way for Harris to tell him if he went too far, no way he could be trusted to stop Jamack if he pushed too hard. His own heartbeat was hammering in his ears. He could feel Harris’ erection pressing against something deep inside him, so deep it bordered on too much.</p><p>Feeling Jamack tighten just a <em>tiny</em> bit more, Harris’ eyes rolled back and his mouth went slack. He felt like he was being punched, like he was drowning in pleasure. He might die, but it would be worth it.</p><p>His head snapped back and he came with a violent jerk, yanking hard against Jamack’s grip on his wrist. He didn’t actually want to get free. He was only testing it, feeling the delicious sensation of being held in place as he fought, and Jamack didn’t disappoint him.</p><p>By now Jamack knew that Harris thrashing in his grip was only an invitation to pin him down harder.</p><p>Harris cumming in him sent him over the edge. He bowed over Harris, trembling as he spent across Harris’ chest. Finally, he released Harris, giving his bruised skin a tender stroke. He knelt higher over Harris, letting his erection slip out of his cloaca. His attempt to lie next to Harris was clumsy, but he managed not to slide off the bed entirely. He was still breathless, exhausted.</p><p>Harris gulped down air, furiously pumping it into his oxygen-starved lungs. He felt light and glowy, and he couldn’t stop smiling as he nestled himself against Jamack’s side, wrapping first his arms and then his legs around Jamack. His wrist and throat sang. He’d never felt this happy, this…content in his life. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, but Jamack wasn’t pinning him down anymore. It would slowly fade.</p><p>He sighed, closing his eyes. At least he still had Jamack, and they were naked and alone and together and pressed as tight against each other as they could get without him crawling beneath Jamack’s skin.</p><p>Jamack hummed, happy to have Harris clinging to him. He was always extra needy after they were rough together, and though Jamack tended to feel off the next day, it was always worth it for this part. Harris was practically glowing.</p><p>Still, he had to ask, “Wasn’t too much?”</p><p>“Not at alllllll,” Harris trilled, beaming. He nuzzled Jamack’s shoulder, wishing there was some way they <em>could</em> get closer, that they could stay just like this a little longer. “Feel…so good,” he breathed against Jamack’s skin.</p><p>“Good,” Jamack murmured, smiling. He stroked his fingers over Harris’ skin, closing his eyes briefly. He was just so worn out.</p><p>Well, if Jamack was closing <em>his</em> eyes, it was probably alright to do the same. Harris’ drifted shut. He felt a sudden, powerful surge of l—of <em>something</em>. Normally it would have terrified him—he had just enough sense left to realize that—but right now it just made him feel warm and safe, like he was perched on a rock in the sun.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Jamack hadn’t meant to actually drift off. He was halfway off the bed by the time he realized he was awake. There was light coming in through the window.</p><p>
  <em>They had slept through their shift.</em>
</p><p>“Harris, get up!” Jamack snapped, already starting to dress. He checked his watch. They were more than four hours overdue. He was going to be in so much shit for this. He needed to come up with a foolproof lie.</p><p>“Noooo,” Harris groaned, rolling onto his stomach and throwing an arm over his face. “’s too early.”</p><p>“We’re <em>late</em>,” Jamack snarled. “Get up, get dressed, if you’re not in the car when I get there, I’m leaving you here.”</p><p>The urgency in Jamack’s voice snapped Harris out of his drowsiness. “We’re <em>late</em>?!” He was off the bed before he knew it, frantically trying to cram himself into his suit. None of the buttons were lining up. Oh well. He could fix it in the car. He ran after Jamack, who he suspected would actually make good on his threat this time. He hopped in just as Jamack signalled for the dragonfly to start pulling.</p><p>Harris lay back heavily in his seat, not keeping a lookout the way he usually did. His eyes were mostly closed. Now that he was past his initial spurt of horrified adrenaline, his head was pounding and he was <em>exhausted</em>. He felt utterly limp. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep, but <em>no</em>, he had to fix his fucking <em>buttons</em> and race back to the Pond, where they’d get into deep trouble, all because Jamack had fallen asleep! His throat hurt, and every time he moved, his sleeve brushed against the bruise on his wrist, sending a little shiver through him. It felt good, and he didn’t <em>want</em> it to. He knew he should be grateful his sleeve <em>covered</em> the bruise—they hadn’t exactly been careful about that in their frenzy—but he wasn’t grateful for anything right now.</p><p>Jamack felt similar, miserable and frantically coming up with a story that would be good enough to excuse a four-hour absence. He thought he’d made a decent effort, but he knew he was still going to get punished for this. He told Harris the details of his lie, sure that they would ask Harris for confirmation as soon as they were done with him. He finished outlining the fake events with a harsh warning: “Do not fuck this up.”</p><p>“<em>You</em> don’t fuck this up,” Harris snapped. He knew, deep down, that this wasn’t Jamack’s fault, but it <em>felt </em>like Jamack’s fault and he was easy and convenient to blame.</p><p>“They’re going to ask me first. If we both stick to the story, I’ll get out of this with—” he stopped. Harris knew. There was no point going over it.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Jamack had come away from their mistake with very little punishment, all in all. Some grunt work, a little self-inflicted pain and a restriction from next year’s mating season, which meant very little to him. He’d been tired before all this happened. Now he felt exhausted. He just wanted to curl up in his burrow and sleep for a week, but they had patrol again—after he’d spent his entire day awake and working. At least Harris had escaped punishment, seeing as Jamack had been in charge. According to their lie, he was at fault for not sending Harris to the Pond with a message that they would be late.</p><p>And now they had another Frog taking patrol with them for a few weeks, too. Fantastic.</p><p>Jamack was in a sour mood when he got into the car. Their chaperone was an older Mod Frog, one who insisted on driving. Jamack despised being in the passenger seat. He sat on top of the car instead, ignoring the other Frog’s attempts to talk to him.</p><p>The look on Jamack’s face when the other Frog casually climbed into ‘Jamack’s’ seat was the only bright spot in Harris’ day. Even the lack of punishment hadn’t made him feel better. Why would Jamack do that for him? He probably would have gotten off more easily if he’d implicated Harris even a little. Harris would have.</p><p>Wouldn’t he?</p><p>He was so tired. While he wasn’t <em>officially</em> being punished, he hadn’t been allowed to creep off to his burrow until his patrol at nightfall. Instead he was ordered to sit at a desk and go over rookie Mod Frogs’ reports. It had involved a lot of erasing and white-out and cursing and he was <em>so tired</em>. He’d had to make the same very basic calculations over and over because he kept writing the numbers wrong or just coming up with the wrong answers.</p><p>He sat in his usual spot beside the driver. He really hoped the older Frog wasn’t chatty. He was relieved that he couldn’t see Jamack. Somehow, this all still felt like his fault.</p><p>He was actually relieved that he wasn’t alone with Jamack. Who knew what kind of stupid shit they’d do? Maybe they <em>needed</em> a chaperone, because they clearly couldn’t keep themselves in control.</p><p>It was going to be a long patrol.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Inhibitions</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It had only been a few months since their break up, and their reputations had recovered since their mistake. They had found and brought back a small van packed full of medical equipment. The side of the van was even marked with the symbol humans had used for medics! How obvious. Why would anyone advertize that kind of stash? Humans were dumb.</p><p>The three of them were celebrating their success, and another small rise in the ranks. They were the last three Frogs in the bar, besides the server, enjoying far more drinks than they usually allowed themselves. The half-flooded bar left them standing up to their waists in water, and it was a good thing too, since drinking dried a Frog out and being in the water was the best way to survive without a killer hangover. Being drunk was a little dangerous surrounded by other Mod Frogs, but it took so much more alcohol to get Kwat properly drunk, and she tended to protect them when they really needed it. And now that the bar was empty, most Mod Frogs either having left for patrols or gone to their burrows, they felt a little safer.</p><p>Kwat yawned theatrically, rapping the bar with one knuckle. “Well, I’d offer to walk the two of you to your burrows, but I don’t know where they are.” She chuckled at her own joke. “Goodnight. Stay out of trouble. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She waved at them over her shoulder. Hopefully they were drunk enough to fuck—but not drunk enough to get caught. It was almost mating season, and they had always ended up together again during those couple of weeks. For <em>some</em> reason.</p><p>Harris scoffed, waving a hand at her several moments after she’d left. <em>“Weak!” </em>he called after her, then turned to Jamack. “She’s weak. Not like ush… <em>Us.</em> You ’n me…” He trailed off, shakily raising his glass—but only spilling a little!—to toast Jamack. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Not since—nope!</p><p>He wasn’t…he didn’t think about that. Things were different now. They were friends—no, <em>colleagues</em>—and that was all. But this was nice, too. Just spending time with Jamack, no pressure between them. And if his hand brushed against Jamack’s from time to time, completely by accident, well, was that so wrong?</p><p>Jamack grinned. Harris was such a lightweight, but to be fair he was <em>tiny</em>.</p><p>Jamack was leaning on the bar, feeling warm and easy. It was a funny feeling, the way it seemed to wash away his paranoia, filtering out all the anger and fear that was just a part of their everyday lives. “Fuck, this is good,” he hummed, taking another slow sip. It burned in his mouth and down his throat and he closed his eyes until the feeling resolved into more warmth.</p><p>“Kwat…” Jamack had started his sentence with a fully formed thought and then it was gone. He took a moment to remember it. “Kwat’s got the right idea, I’m about done.” He had learned in their youth that once he hit a certain amount of drunken happiness, it was better to stop than to push further. “And you, you can barely talk,” he snorted. “Come on, finish your drink.”</p><p>Locking eyes with Jamack, Harris picked up his glass and drained it in one swallow, hissing as the strong alcohol burned down his throat and into his stomach. “Lightweights,” he snorted. “Lightweights, the both’a you.” He slammed his tumbler back down a little harder than he’d intended, watching Jamack out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want to leave Jamack, not yet, and go back to his cold, lonely burrow. But if Jamack was done drinking, how could he draw out their time together? He raised his hand to order another shot for himself.</p><p>Jamack put his hand over Harris’, shaking his head. He tapped his hand on the bar, sliding both their empty glasses across the counter for the server to take, thanking him quietly. “Come on,” he said. He didn’t want to openly hold Harris up, knowing that would only look shameful for Harris, or weird on his part. “No more for you.”</p><p>“No more for <em>you</em>!” Harris burst out laughing, elbowing Jamack hard in the side.</p><p>Jamack couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Alright, come with me. If you can even walk,” he goaded him, certain that the challenge would make him try.</p><p>Harris snorted again. “I can walk. <em>You</em>—” He stood up and almost fell, catching himself on a stool. It wobbled, nearly taking Harris down with it, but settled on all four legs, leaving Harris standing on his own. “<em>You</em> can’t walk.” With great dignity, he sailed across the bar and breezed out the door.</p><p>Jamack followed him, ready to catch him if he stumbled. “Good, let’s get you to your burrow before you slip off a lily pad and drown.”</p><p>“You can’t come to my burrow!” Harris scoffed.  “…<em>Can</em> you?”</p><p>“I can <em>walk</em> you there,” Jamack corrected him. He wished he could do more, but that seemed…inadvisable. He knew where Harris’ burrow was, even after Harris had moved it last time Jamack had found it, and when he realized Harris wasn’t picking a direction, he gently guided him to the quiet place Harris had chosen.</p><p>Every time Harris slowed down or stopped to look at something—it was painfully obvious that he was looking for excuses to draw out their time together—Jamack was there to herd him on again.</p><p>All too soon they were at the entrance to his burrow. Harris sighed deeply, kicking at the ground with one foot and almost falling flat on his face.</p><p>“Can you get in?” Jamack snorted, watching Harris stumble. “Do you need a boost?” Harris’ burrow was pretty high up, hidden under an embankment and some overgrown plants. Normally Harris was a great climber, but tonight he couldn’t even <em>walk</em>.</p><p>“No! <em>You</em> need a boost.” Harris scrambled up and, without thinking, reached down to offer Jamack a hand.</p><p>Jamack froze, looking up at him with surprise. The offer was so casual, so <em>easy</em>—for Harris. He reached up, taking Harris’ hand.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, you’re heavy!” Harris groused, breathing a little hard. “Why’re you so heavy?” He shook his head, glancing rather obviously at the actual entrance to his burrow. “…’re you coming in?” he asked, breathing even more quickly now. But it was too late, the words were out, he’d said them, and he couldn’t take them back. What happened next was up to Jamack. <em>And</em>, if Jamack reacted badly, this would be a pretty good place to kill him without anyone seeing.</p><p>Jamack laughed. Harris hadn’t even realized what he was offering. “I shouldn’t.” He shouldn’t have taken Harris’ hand. Or even walked him back to his burrow.</p><p>“You shooooooould,” Harris insisted, tightening his grip on Jamack’s hand and pulling him a little closer. He hadn’t realized that he’d forgotten to let go…but Jamack hadn’t <em>made</em> him let go, either.</p><p>It wasn’t something Jamack wanted to refuse. He nodded and Harris pulled him inside by their still-intertwined fingers.</p><p>Harris’ burrow was small and entirely lined with moss, even the sloping walls and the ceiling. It had taken him quite a bit of effort to get the moss to stick to the muddy, sandy roof, but he’d finally managed it with some glue he’d traded for. The small size of the chamber and the moss he dampened every time he slept kept him pleasantly moist until he woke up. Unlike Jamack—and, Harris suspected, most Frogs—Harris didn’t have a ‘bed’ of any kind. He slept directly on the moss, which was more than soft enough <em>and</em> didn’t stink of humans or any other mute.</p><p>There was barely room for both of them, but Harris was <em>determined</em>. Just the sight, the smell, of Jamack in his personal space was more intoxicating than the liquor. His erection had already slipped partway out, stretching the front of his trousers uncomfortably.</p><p>Jamack found himself pulled first into Harris’ little nest, and then right into Harris’ arms. He’d never dared to imagine Harris would let him into his burrow at all.</p><p>They were both breathing hard now, so close to each other, Harris’ hands on his chest. Jamack had the fierce desire to kiss him, but they’d never kissed and that seemed like pushing it.</p><p>Harris tugged mutely at Jamack’s jacket, whining softly, eyes wide and urgent with need. He ground against Jamack’s thigh, letting Jamack feel the effect he was having on him.</p><p>“Fuck,” Jamack breathed. Harris’ urgency drove him, and within a minute he was undressed, and undressing Harris, who seemed to be struggling to get out of his suit. His own erection grew hard, and they rutted against each other.</p><p>There wasn’t enough room in the burrow for them to fuck, no matter how much Harris twisted and turned and tried to shove Jamack into place. Finally, his head somehow ended up between Jamack’s legs, and Jamack’s erection was <em>right there</em>, and after all Jamack had done this to him many times, so it couldn’t be <em>that</em> bad, and then his mouth was open and his tongue darted out just for a taste, and Jamack tasted <em>good</em>. Harris had already pulled back, ready to be repulsed, but instead he rocked forward again with his mouth open wider. Mindful of his teeth, he closed it around Jamack’s shaft, molding his mouth around Jamack’s erection.</p><p>The noise Jamack made was startled delight. He clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle himself. The other hand rested between Harris’ eyes. He couldn’t resist rolling his hips up to meet Harris’ mouth. This was another thing that he had never imagined Harris would try with him, something he had been satisfied to offer and not receive. Just seeing Harris between his legs, mouth wrapped around his erection, nearly had Jamack at his limit.</p><p>Harris somehow managed to grin around his mouthful, stroking Jamack’s inner thigh with one hand while he braced himself with the other. He closed his eyes. He could <em>taste</em> how close Jamack was, and he wanted to drink it down. Keeping a tight seal with his mouth, Harris wrapped the tip of his tongue around Jamack’s length, lavishing it with attention.</p><p>Jamack arched back with a moan and came in Harris’ mouth. He looked down at him with a grin, feeling overwhelmed with affection.</p><p>Humming with pleasure, Harris swallowed in long gulps until Jamack was still beneath him. He pulled back and wiped his mouth, grinning back up at Jamack.</p><p>“Fuck,” Jamack panted. “Wow.”</p><p>“Wow,” Harris agreed, his voice a little raspy.</p><p>“Let me—lie down for me,” Jamack told him.</p><p>Harris nodded and lay down on the moss, spreading his knees and wishing he could stretch out fully. That was the nice thing about their bed in the city—it was much larger than a burrow.</p><p>Jamack slid down to take Harris’ erection in his mouth, groaning as he did. One hand held Harris’ thigh, the other stroked his cloaca, parting it gently and teasing at his entrance.</p><p><em>“Mmmfuck,”</em> Harris groaned, spreading his legs as much as he could, hands tearing at the soft moss beneath them. Jamack’s tight grip on his leg felt so good, and he was tempted to ask—maybe beg—for Jamack to grab his throat instead, but things had gone so <em>wrong</em> the last time and he didn’t want to risk feeling that shitty again the next day, or ruining the moment.</p><p>Especially because Jamack had already cum and he hadn’t yet.</p><p>He rammed his hips up to meet Jamack’s eager mouth, almost lifting Jamack in his eagerness. He kept moaning and whining helplessly, riding right on the edge of <em>too much</em> and loving every moment of it.</p><p>Jamack slid his fingers deeper, loving the feel of Harris tightening around them. He swallowed around his mouthful, letting his tongue press against the base of Harris’ erection, where it opened his cloaca, penetrating him with his tongue alongside his fingers.</p><p>“Yes! Yes!” Harris cried, arching beneath Jamack as he came.</p><p>Jamack swallowed, slowly pulling his tongue and fingers free of Harris. He hummed with pleasure as he gave Harris’ cloaca a few slow licks as his erection retreated back inside.</p><p>“Ohhh, fuck,” Harris groaned, falling back onto the moss. Between the alcohol and the sex he felt wrung out, completely limp.</p><p>Jamack collapsed next to him, stroking his hands over Harris’ chest, enjoying just touching him. “Fuck, that was good.”</p><p>“Yes. Yes, it was,” Harris agreed breathlessly, his eyes already drifting shut. “…Stay?” He had no right to ask, and no right to expect Jamack to agree, but he could <em>hope</em>. Ugh.</p><p>“Yeah,” Jamack agreed, sleepily.</p>
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